Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(87)

Apparently they weren’t going to the same office where they’d gone to report the information Pachico had given them . . . curious.

This time the trip through Shadow Mountain was short. Their driver took the first corridor to the right after the medical bay, and drove less than a hundred feet before pulling into an empty parking space against the wall. They followed their escorts through one of those strangely translucent sliding doors and into a web of connected offices and halls.

None of the offices they passed were marked, nor had there been any indication above the entrance to tell them where they were. And now that he thought about it, nothing was marked in this place. The only way you could tell you’d arrived at the hospital was that the people exiting and entering were wearing scrubs, and at the mess hall, by the smell of food.

Nothing about the place shouted operations.

Until their escorts turned a corner and he found himself in front of an open set of double doors.

Behind the doors was a large round table, which could accommodate a dozen men, and a huge freestanding dry-erase board. Dozens of maps ringed the room and a white projection screen swallowed the entire front wall.

Half a dozen hard, watchful faces turned to study them.

Instantly he knew where he was. Instantly he felt at home.

He’d spent thousands of hours seated at similar tables, in similar rooms, eyes glued to wall maps or schematics projected on giant screens. He’d drunk gallons of coffee from identical Styrofoam cups from coffeepots placed in similar unobtrusive, out of the way places.

He’d been in this same room, in dozens of different locales, over the course of his career. It was as comfortable as an old pair of combat boots.

He spotted Wolf across the room and beckoned him over. For a moment it looked like the big warrior was going to ignore him, but then his gaze fell on Faith and a frown touched his face. Without saying a word to the men standing beside him, he headed across the room.

“Dr. Ansell,” he said when he reached them, and offered her a formal half bow. After straightening, he glanced at Rawls, his gaze shrewd. “Problem?”

Before Rawls had a chance to explain, Faith stepped up.

“There are . . . aspects . . . of the research we were doing that are classified,” Faith said, tugging at the bottom of her T-shirt. “But in light of the rescue, and the fact that my team was kidnapped rather than killed outright so they could repeat the process—” She cleared her throat. “So in light of all that, there are things you need to be aware of. Things you may run into. Things you won’t be prepared for.”

She went from tugging the bottom of her shirt to smoothing it repeatedly over her hips. It was a nervous tic. She’d done the same thing in the tunnels. A grin threatened at the memory, until he got a good look at the tension on her face.

Wolf studied her face for a moment and then dropped his gaze to the constant smoothing of her hands. “Your insight is appreciated,” he finally murmured, his voice unusually gentle. “Sit. We begin soon.”

She acknowledged his suggestion with a tight nod and let Rawls take her elbow and escort her to the table. Once she was seated, however, her hands had nothing to smooth, so she started absently picking at her cuticles.

Rawls watched her quietly before covering her restless hands with his. “Everythin’s gonna be fine. You just wait. You’re worryin’ over nothin’,” he said, trying to project encouragement and calm in his voice.

She nodded, but without much conviction. Luckily, the side door swung open and four older men with tanned, leathery faces and long, graying hair in immaculate braids strode in. From the way Wolf greeted them, it was obvious he’d been waiting for them, which meant they’d be getting started soon.

As Wolf spoke to the middle elder, recognition stirred. The four newcomers were dressed differently from the four elders in the cave. Rather than roughhewn rawhide poncho-styled garments, they wore loose jeans and button-down shirts, but he’d swear they were the same four elders who’d performed the binding ceremony.

With Wolf still talking, the lead elder glanced at Faith. After a moment he nodded. The four elders took seats at the head of the table, leaving Wolf standing alone. Not that he appeared uncomfortable, but then, Rawls had never seen Wolf look uncomfortable.

“Dr. Ansell, if you would join me,” Wolf said, his gaze steady on Faith’s tense face.

Rawls frowned; he hadn’t expected them to call her to the front of the room like some schoolgirl being disciplined. She didn’t seem to mind, though. Without hesitation, she pushed back her chair, climbed to her feet, and walked up front.

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat nervously. “I’m not sure how much Commander Mackenzie and his team told you about the research my team and I were involved in.”

“We are aware you were advancing the new energy paradigm and created a prototype capable of pulling energy from the atoms in the air,” Wolf said. “And that your lab was targeted and your team kidnapped because of this.”

“Yes, all of that is true.” She coughed, fidgeting, looking more conflicted than ever.

“Dr. Ansell?” Wolf’s voice was so quiet Rawls barely heard it.

She glanced up, stared directly at Wolf, and squared her shoulders. “Yes, everything I told Commander Mackenzie is true. However, much of our research is classified, so there were . . . things . . . I didn’t mention during that conversation.”